Down To The Seas*

I had such a lovely dream last night. 

I dreamed I'd bought a sailboat. 

And I took off in my sailboat and headed to the Bahamas. 

My plan was to live on my sailboat, just sailing from island to island.  The sky was so blue, and the water was so blue, and the wind was so fresh that I hated to wake up. 

I got to work and spent the entire day singing, "Come sail away, come sail away, come sail away with me!"  And group leader Fernando gave me a strange look as he walked by.  But I didn't care. 

In my mind, I was still at sea. 

Where I've always longed to be. 

I came by it honest.  My dad always loved the sea, and taught me to love it as well.   He told me once that he'd planned on joining the Navy when he got out of high school, but he was drafted by the army first.  He was a huge influence on my own decision to join the Navy, and irony of ironies, I never got to go to sea.

Oh, I wanted to.  But when the ex walked out on me and left me with a newborn-- OK technically Cody was born the day after the ex left-- I decided it would be easier to be a single parent as a civilian. 

I've always regretted that decision.  I know it turned out for the best.  Cody has grown into a fine young man, and really is a better person than I am.  I can't take credit for that.   He's studying to be a minister.  I think of all the lives he will touch, and I do know getting out was the right decision. 

Even so, my heart still longs for the sea. 

*Taken from Sea Fever, by John Masefield-- my dad's favorite poem

I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea's face, and a grey dawn breaking.

I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull's way and the whale's way, where the wind's like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.